Hannon Le II
by Brandi N. Jones
Summary: A followup ficlet to my other, Hannon Le, this time told from the point of view of Legolas.


Title: Hannon Le  
  
Author: Brandi N. Jones  
  
Author's Email: curemytragedyhotmail.com  
  
Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Follow-up fic to my original "Hannon Le." You don't need to have read the first one, but it might help. This time, however, the story is told from Legolas's point of view.

"Stop your fussing, Elf!"  
  
Gimli reached up and swatted at my hands, which had gone to my hair again as if they had a mind all their own. It had to be so, for it was clear that _my_ mind was comfortably situated on a star in another universe altogether.  
  
I was so nervous. I felt tempted to leap from the balcony upon whose railing I precariously perched, to land lightly upon my feet and just take off running wherever my feet would take me.  
  
"Legolas!" The Dwarf managed to catch my fluttery hands in his.   
  
"You're trembling," he observed with some measure of dismay, but there were undertones of concern and compassion in his rough baritone that did not escape my notice.  
  
Gimli sighed and tugged at my hands, dragging them down to my sides.   
  
"_Be still_, you pointy-eared fool."  
  
I barely heard him. I was concentrating on keeping calm.   
  
The time was drawing near, and it scared me to death.  
  
Aragorn would be crowned King of Gondor. I was thrilled for him; above all Men in Arda, Aragorn deserved the honor the most. I had so much faith in him; he would make a great king. The people of Gondor would declare themselves the luckiest in Middle Earth. Rightfully so.  
  
But I...as for myself, I had no idea. I loved Aragorn, had been in love with him since he came of age under the careful nurturing of Lord Elrond in Rivendell.   
  
That time was passed; long over now. Today, he'll meet his destiny. At last.   
  
And I had to come clean.  
  
I knew that this day would come. Not just the coronation, no, but also the end of the charade.   
  
I had kept my feelings secret for so long. I was confident that Aragorn was completely unaware of them...but I would never forgive myself if I did not reveal them to him before he married her.  
  
Arwen. I loved her as the sister my family was never blessed with.   
  
I could not bring myself to resent the beautiful and wonderful Evenstar, although I knew that there was a very real chance that I would lose Aragorn forever to her. She had done nothing to me, and I drowned in respect for her strength to forsake her immortality for a Ranger of the North.   
  
But if Aragorn asked, I would without hesitation do the same for him.   
  
I hopped down off the balcony railing and stepped lightly back into the lavish guest quarters. I then walked up to the solitairy small mirror in the room, watching as the white-clad Elf in the glass before me played nervously with a bright circlet.  
  
"Legolas, _stop!_ Leave your pretty head-jewelry alone."  
  
"Is it centered?"  
  
"Aye, fool Elf, it is centered." It was clear that Gimli was losing patience quickly, so I set about summoning the determination to quit fidgeting.  
  
He shook his head, sweeping absently at a lock of my hair which lay defiantly over my shoulder.   
  
"You look nice," he commented, then added gruffly, "for an Elf."  
  
"Nice?" I frowned, half-teasing.  
  
"What would you have me say?"  
  
I shrugged. "Then I shall say that you look very presentable indeed, a feat I never before believed a stunted child of Durin could manage."  
  
"Beautiful, then. Is that better than 'nice?' "  
  
"Much," I stated with an approving grin.  
  
Gimli snorted.  
  
"Well, Master Elf, I shall now take my leave. I have a mind to enjoy a bit of intimate time with my pipe before the ceremony begins." He began to rifle through his pockets. "Care to join me?"  
  
I made a face at him that required no verbal response.   
  
The Dwarf chuckled. "I might have saved myself the trouble of asking."  
  
I shrugged, still offering no excuse.   
  
Gimli walked to the door, then turned to look back at me.   
  
"Best of luck, Elf." He offered me the most genuine smile I had ever seen upon his lips. "Aragorn would be luckier still to have you."  
  
He dragged open the heavy oaken door and disappeared before I had a chance to recover from my surprise.  
  
How did Gimli know? I was beside myself for a moment in confusion.  
  
When the confusion fell away, all that was left was misery. A sudden misery so strong it took my breath away.  
  
_ Does everyone know? Valar, does Aragorn know?!  
_  
I threw open the double doors to the balcony and fell to my knees upon the stone just as the tears began to flow.  
  
_ Oh, Elbereth, help me.  
_  
I usually refused to allow myself to selfishly indulge in the weakness of tears, but this was an exception. Besides, I discovered very quickly that I could not stop the tears in spite of the strength of will I mustered.   
  
With each glistening tear that fell, I named a reason for loving Aragorn. There were many tears, but I ran out of them_ long_ before I ran out of reasons.  
  
Suddenly, I felt a hand come to rest upon my left shoulder. Startled, I looked up into a pair of quiet sapphire eyes.  
  
The owner crouched into a kneel before me, studying me in silence, concern written all over those expressive eyes.  
  
"Glorfindel," I half-gasped.  
  
Oh, mortification is _such_ a vivid emotion.  
  
"Leave me," I said quietly.  
  
"You know very well that I won't, Legolas."  
  
I sighed, reaching up to wipe at my tears, so ashamed I could not even look him straight in the eye anymore.  
  
"I love him, Glorfindel."  
  
"I know." He gave my shoulder a squeeze.   
  
I released a shaky sigh and just nodded.   
  
"You must tell him, little one. I know you fear he will not declare the feeling mutual, but, young prince, if you forsake this opportunity, you will never know, and may never forgive yourself."  
  
I didn't even have the energy or inclination to glower at Glorfindel. After all the centuries I had known him, he never would cease to call me "little one."  
  
"Glorfindel, you're the notorious hero of last Age. Has your courage ever faltered? Have you ever been truly afraid?"  
  
His eyes glittered with mirth. "Legolas, may I remind you of the way I earned that honor? I believe that Durin's Bane is the truest fear imaginable."  
  
I smiled weakly. "Aye, granted."  
  
"If Aragorn is remarkable enough to merit the invaluable gift of your love, certainly he deserves also to know of it."  
  
_ And the fair daughter of Elrond deserves to have _his_ love,_ I thought dejectedly.  
  
Glorfindel reached and placed two fingers beneath my lowered chin, tilting my head gently up until my eyes met his.  
  
"Legolas, you comprise a heartwrenchingly beautiful picture that falls within inches of perfection. If Aragorn does not love you, he is the truest fool to be sure in all of Middle Earth. However, if you do not tell him today, you will never know whether or not he is such a fool."  
  
I nodded resignedly.  
  
The golden Elf rocked back on his heels, rising gracefully to his feet.   
  
"I must go now, Prince," he told me, extending his hand down to me to help me to my feet.  
  
As I took the proffered hand and stood, Glorfindel clasped my shoulder. "Tell him." He said no more, just planted a brotherly kiss upon my forehead and then exited the room.  
  
Alone again, I refused to allow myself to cry another single damned tear. I just took in a few shaking but therapeutic breaths, gathering my wits and feigned calm about me.  
  
There was a timid knock upon my door.  
  
"Prince Legolas?"  
  
I walked to the door and opened it, staring perplexedly at the dark-haired Elf who tilted his head to me.  
  
"I believe it is time for the departure of you and yours. They await in the Grand Hall."  
  
"Thank you," I answered. "I will be but a moment."  
  
He nodded, then quickly walked away.  
  
I ran a hand lightly over the back of my head, smoothing my hair, then brushed down the front of my robes. Both were very nervous habits, but I forgave myself the silly gestures. I was very nervous.  
  
After taking another moment to collect myself, I padded to the door, opening it wide and stepping out with forced regality.  
  
It was time. It was now or never.  
  
I walked to the Grand Hall, and found a group of Elves clad much the same as I waiting expectantly.   
  
One stepped forward. "Shall we go?"  
  
I nodded, determined to be strong if nothing else for them at least.  
  
For Aragorn.  
  
I took my place at the head of the procession. I was their Prince, after all. All I wanted to do, however, was hide behind the others until it was all over.  
  
_ Some Prince._ My sarcastic thought brought a wry smirk to my face as I began to walk forward slowly.   
  
Two Rivendell Elves opened the double doors wide for us, and we all filed outside, emerging into the bright sunlight.   
  
Hesitantly, I made my way through a crowd of denizens that soon began to part a path for us.  
  
I heard singing, and I recognized the resonant voice immediately. My heart sang a loving reply.  
  
And my knees turned to water at the sight of him.  
  
He was only about fifty feet away now, and I was drawing ever closer.  
  
I could not believe the royalty he exuded.   
  
I knew that if I did not know him through and through, if I did not dream of him each night, if I did not see that beloved face each and every time I closed my eyes, I would more than likely never have recognized him.  
  
I thought I would burst from the pride that swelled up within me.  
  
Gone was Strider, the dingy, none too fragrant Ranger who pledged his life and sword to a Halfling of the Shire. Gone was Aragorn, the battle-hardened hero of the War of the Ring who stepped forward and led a fellowship of mismatched, despairing creatures when all hope seemed to be lost.  
  
Now was the time of Estel, a name christened upon a young, orphaned boy by Lord Elrond himself, one that meant "hope," a name that ultimately proved to be very fitting indeed.  
  
He was bedecked in all his regal glory, his armor glinting in the sunlight. His hair was freshly washed and brushed, and shone with renewed health and radiance.   
  
I wasn't certain if the beautifully intricate crown sparkled most, or if it was rather his eyes as they met mine.   
  
He was approaching me, and I felt my pulse quicken and my heart flutter.  
  
He was so close now; it was intoxicating.  
  
His hand came to rest on my shoulder, and he clasped it gently and smiled.   
  
Aragorn was silent for a long moment. I couldn't refrain from giving him a puzzled look, and that seemed to spur him into action.  
  
His smile widened slightly, and at long last, he spoke.  
  
_"Hannon le."  
_  
I lowered my gaze, so afraid that it would give everything away. It took all the deference in me to lift my eyes and turn my attention back to his.   
  
My confession lingered on my tongue as I forced myself to offer him my most sincere, grateful smile.  
  
Now was the moment. I took in a breath, preparing to utter the three words that had plagued me for decades to the man who would hold my heart in the calloused palm of his hand forever.  
  
My throat constricted and my tongue refused to cooperate.   
  
_ I cannot do it. I cannot say it.  
_  
My hesitation proved to be my most regrettable mistake.   
  
In the next moment, a quiet procession of Rivendell Elves approached. Elrond obviously was leading the group, and he was flanked by Glorfindel, who gave me an encouraging, albeit appropriately subtle, grin.  
  
_ Oh, golden son of Gondolin, if only you knew my foolish cowardice.  
_  
I watched in tentative dismay as Elrond moved away from Aragorn and allowed a slender figure to draw nearer. The identity was well-concealed behind an ornate banner.  
  
I was dreading the action long before the banner was lowered.   
  
Arwen.  
  
I glanced quickly to Aragorn, and instantaneously knew I would eternally wither in remorse for it. His blue eyes were fastened upon her, and although they revealed nothing, I could not ignore the agony of my heart snapping in two.   
  
My breath hitched as Aragorn turned slightly to look over his shoulder at me. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, then he returned his attention to Arwen.  
  
My very soul seemed to break as he hastened forward to catch her up in a strong embrace and plant a feverishly enthusiastic kiss upon her lips.  
  
So much for confessing. So much for courage.  
  
I silently watched the happy pair, allowing myself time to wish. Later would be the time to grieve, and later still, the time to let go.  
  
_ Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you have earned your name of "Hope," yet you have also proved to be my greatest despair. I will always long for what can never be, yet I wish you happiness. For centuries after your last day in Middle Earth, you will be my brother. _

_ And forever, you will be the greatest love of my life._


End file.
